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Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life.

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At the foot of cliff I stood, looking down. I could feel myself slowly swaying back and fort. I could sense my body trying to comprehend my depth, trying to find balance. I was alone in this, not a single soul was around and I was ready. I was ready to just fall, to say good by to it all. To never have to look back and feel the pain of ever living, of ever letting those around me down, or myself. All those years of mental abuse from bullies and myself could end just like that. I could silence the pain of ever having to listen to another ounce of pain. This was my chance to free it all, to free this sorrow that has nailed all my hope shut. I cant remember the last time I didn't feel like I was being buried alive. Everyday it felt like I was laying in a coffin, watching strangers pour dirt on me, little by little. Each day, feeling like the air around me was growing thinner.

My soul has been beaten, buried, tossed aside like trash. I have sat with it in the dark and listened. And all I could hear was tears, tears of the deepest emptiness as blood poured from my skin. Music played in the background softly. It was like a whisper of vacant darkness flowing through my room. And I remember my soul looking up at me with tearful eyes and its once beautiful glow, now dimly lit like an old streetlight, tell me to stop. And I did, I felt a strange feeling of happiness come over me. I am not sure why, but it did. And I remember that day, I smiled, though I covered my pain with my sleeves. What was it that kept me going? I didn't not know at that point. And I did not know if I even wanted to know. I thought, what is there that is left that can drag me from this pit of despair, this agony that drags me across nails misery? Leaving me for my tears to carry me home. Worry had found me and had made shelter in me. I worried constantly about what others thought of me, what I will fail at, or mess up on. I worried that I looked terrible to the rest of the world. I mean, who wants a broken soul? Who wants someone that has tossed aside its soul like yesterdays news? I couldn't seem to keep up with the world or myself. I felt empathetic to nothing to no one. I was once a soul and someone of great will and love. Now, now I was empty, broken, and lifeless.

All I felt was pain and regret followed suit. Even the smallest pleasure didn't bring sense of joy, not even the large ones. I once found music joyful, now I found my ears scurrying from the smallest music of cheer. How does one end up like this? How does one fall so far into darkness, that life it self becomes a nuisance? I can't seem to find any hope lingering within my world. I had tried over and over and I remember that, the day my soul told me to keep going, I remember I had regretted not ignoring it and doing as I planned. Not a single knock on my door came that day, I had been left in my room alone for weeks. I reached out to no one, I reached out to nothing. I felt myself sulking in my pain and it felt like nourishment to me. Sadly, I think pain had become an addiction much like anything else. Thoughts I cannot describe raped my mind and left it bloodied but alive for a later meal. And in me, I had grown death, I had birthed death with enough misery to find me a place by its side.

Dark eyes, a cloak, and pale skin is what I image death to be. Eyes so dark, they appear pressed into its skull, and skin so pale, the mere talk of sunlight would burnt it. And lips, lips that look as if it had kissed burning steel. I had become quite the acquaintance of death but sadly, we had not met. We had conversations that would last an entire day. They sounded so profound and perfect, we were unified in a strange way I guess. I did most the talking, well, all of it really. But I could feel it, standing their, watching, waiting, panting to take me. That day I held the blade to my skin and cut, I swear I could hear death dancing at my back. Each step it took beat like a drum, like a hundred drums echoing in the mountains. I could feel it Smiling with content and joy. But bleeding of suffering and feverish torment. But, how else would one be if all you did was take the breath of life? Death dancing behind me, frightened me, but at the same time gave me comfort. For someone, or something, was excited for me. I was excited for me, I was about to do something great with my life, well, not great in anyone else eyes. But, I was about to finish something, to rid the world of a little pain.

But now, I look back at all this and I feel pity for who I once was. For that day at that cliff, I realized that what I was seeing in myself and those around me was not true. Much like the mind trying to perceive the balance between, what my eyes were seeing and where my body was standing. See, my brain, eyes, and body were all trying to make sense of the situation. Was I going to fall, am I falling? And my brain was speaking so loud it was difficult for me to even make sense of why I was there. My brain was talking with thoughts of, "careful you are going fall, whoa, what if wind comes by and blows you off, or someone pushes you then it wasn't your doing? Are you going to do it or not, what about that favorite ice cream place? You'll never get to go again. Or, what about that girl you see every day, give it a chance, say something. Maybe she will want to talk, you don't know till you try right?"

It just kept racing and racing, while my eyes just dialed wildly to try and find balance while my brain was losing it. Then I realized, my eyes see one thing, my brain sees another. So why can't I? I thought, maybe I am just looking at things wrong. My feet were planted strong on the ground, I was actually pretty safe. The chances of someone pushing me or the wind coming by was pretty slim. Even though my feet were planted strong, my eyes thought differently, along with my brain. All they could do was think about falling or not falling most the time. While my body just followed direction of what I chose to do. So, while my eyes saw death and my brain felt death, my heart felt a rush, it felt excited. I felt excited, some what by possibly of ending it all and some by just living on the edge of life. And from that moment on, I realized that life is how we perceive and where we position ourselves in our head and physically. The rush of being on the edge of life is amazing, indescribable. So now, that's how I live life, on the edge. Constantly finding things that drive me to feel as if I am on the edge. Some times, its simply trying a new food, or going skydiving, or asking a beautiful woman out, only to be rejected, and many other things. But now I make sure I am always moving forward but making sure I am on edge. I found pain and suffering only last if you open the door for it. Life will always be painful at times, but that doesn't mean you have to open the door it and warm it up. Truth be told, no matter how much you try to warm of pain, it is always going to hurt. And like my body swaying and getting out of control at the edge of the cliff. I learned that we have to make sure to care for all areas of ourselves. It wont be possible to balance everything correctly, but we have to make sure our feet our always grounded. Or we will find ourselves falling for the tricks of our mind and stumble off balance,
or close our eyes and fall.

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